The Darker Half of Service
by m klindt
Summary: A mission is found out and Illya must find out what it going on to save his partner, UNCLE, and possilby the world.  Part of my Lexi stories
1. Chapter 1

The Darker Half of Service

By

M. Klindt

I do not own the characters from MFU, but like to borrow them to play with the ones I have created. Thank you for reading my stories. This is part of my "Lexi" series.

Chapter One

"Waverly here," a pleasantly strong voice answered the phone.

"Alex, it's me, Daryl Gibbons." Another male voice called out. "How are you?"

Well, well, Special Agent Gibbons," Waverly warmly smiled when he recognized the voice of a friend from the FBI. "I'm fine. What do I owe the pleasure of your call? How are you and Emily? Calling to check up on your son?"

"I'm afraid not, Alex." The voice on the phone turned formal and sighed. "This is a business call. I have to ask you about the whereabouts of an agent of yours. There's been an incident."

"One of my men?" he asked, searching through his tall stacks of papers to see which agents were currently on assignment here in New York. "What's happened?"

"An unidentified young woman was dumped right outside our building. No one saw what happened. She was beaten, shot, and raped. We took her to Mercy…"

"I feel sorry for the girl, but what has this got to do with one of my men?" Waverly asked gruffly, cutting to the chase.

"She was clutching a yellow badge in the shape of a triangle in her hand so tightly that we could only pry it out after she was sedated. Alex, it looks like one of yours and there's an eleven on it."

Waverly sat quietly in contemplation. Roman numeral number two, not eleven and he knew exactly whose badge it belonged to, Napoleon Solo. He was on his list of those presently in New York and working with Miss Dancer and Miss Lane on a case involving a black market scheme to sell computer codes to THRUSH using high class call girls for their curriers. Solo was their contact person.

"Alex, are you still there?" Gibbons softly asked. He could hear the thoughtful silence, but had to deal with the startling business at hand. "We need to bring him in for questioning…"

"What did the girl look like, Daryl?" Waverly could barely get the words out while his stomach turned at the thought of which one it could be.

"Let me see…blond hair, petite, white…"

"Her eyes, what color are her eyes," He asked forcefully.

"Blue, I think. Do you know the Jane Doe? Is she one of yours?" Gibbons asked.

"Possible, which Mercy Hospital did you send her to?"

Waverly picked up a pen and pulled a pad of paper towards him. He angrily pushed his pipe out of the way and didn't notice that it rolling off the table. It hit the worn, linoleum floor and shattered into several pieces.

"The one downtown, not too far from our offices," Gibbons answered his question quickly, but still had to discuss the matter at hand. "Hey, Alex, I really have to find this man. At least give me his name."

"If the badge is real, it belongs to one of my top Section Two agents, Napoleon Solo, but the security badges never leave the building. I'll find him. He and one of our lawyers will come to your office tomorrow morning if it's within my powers. I need time to find out what happened and if the lady in question is another one of my agents that was on the same mission with him."

"Some crack pot group must think that we're on to them and this is their way sending us a warning not to pursue them any further. It's odd, that they left something from UNCLE with her. It was as if they wanted us to think that you were involved and that puts us at odds with each other."

"Yes, that's a very good hypothesis, Daryl." Waverly released his held breath and started to make a plan of attack. "I do appreciate your prompt attention on this matter. We, both need to find out what is going on. I'll get back to you shortly.

"Utmost discretion is needed and I know that I can rely on you. I'd ask your indulgence and want copies of your investigation for our own analysis. I'll send you my findings as well."

"Of course, Alex, but I can't keep it under wraps for long. Public displays of crimes like these are very noteworthy to reporters, especially when they happen right outside our front doors. I'd hate to see that young lady harassed any more than need be.

"If she is one of yours, get her back to headquarters as soon as possible. You've two hours to take custody of her, before she'll be transferred to one of our facilities for the duration of the investigation. I'll plan to see your Mr. Solo in the morning. You know the address…"

Waverly put down the phone after he jotted down notes and held the pencil at both ends with his hands. An uneasy feeling crept into his bones while he flipped the switch to his secretary's desk.

"Miss McNabb, have Dr. Allen call me as soon as possible."

"Yes sir."

"Tell Communications I want a report of all the Section Two activities from the last 72 hours on my desk in half an hour."

"Yes sir."

"Have Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin checked in yet?"

"Just Mr. Kuryakin, sir. He's been here over an hour in his lab, but Mr. Solo hasn't checked in. It's a little early for him to show up."

"Yes, it is, isn't it? Let me know when he does and tell Mr. Kuryakin to come see me. Make some of that tea he likes. Better get Mr. Slate here as well."

"Sir, Mr. Slate is in London. Do you want me to call him back?" Heather asked quietly, sensing trouble brewing in her boss's requests.

"Yes, that would be appropriate. Have him catch the earliest flight he can find."

"Sir, Dr. Allen in on line two for you." Waverly smiled at her efficiency and cleared his throat. "Thank you, Miss McNabb and bring in my spare pipe; I seemed to have dropped mine and broke it."

"Right away, sir," she said professionally, confirming her suspicions that someone was either seriously hurt or dead. Luckily, she kept several spare pipes for Mr. Waverly just for days like today.

MFU/MFU

Illya Kuryakin had received a call in his lab to go to Waverly's office when he's able. He knew that this meant right away. It was a bit early for him to report to his boss about the mission he had just come back from and wanted to check how his experiments were progressing beforehand. He was so tired last night that when his flight from Asia had landed, he didn't even call Lexi and went right to sleep.

Just the thought of her name made him smile on the inside, although his face remained hard and smooth. If people knew that he had such feelings for someone else, it would ruin his reputation. Being cold and aloof had its advantages in the spy world.

Monica "Lexi" Lane knew this too and practiced it as well; even though he finally agreed that he wouldn't deny that they were a couple. Everyone in headquarters knew it anyway, but that didn't mean that he had to say anything unless asked. That's all he would agree to when Lexi tortured him with food in Medical after a mission.

Deep in thought about the pleasure her torture session had given him that day, he replaced his lab coat for his predictable black suit jacket, left the lab, and walked to the elevator. It helped him accept him punishment from Dr. Samuels for punching him in the nose and to pass his overzealous psych evaluation with flying colors. He'd even sincerely apologized to the doctor without having to be bullied into it by Napoleon.

While he waited in the elevator, Illya wondered how Napoleon's part of their mission was going with April and Lexi. The blond man had been gone for almost two weeks and was starting to feel the pull to be back in New York and with his small group friends.

Just as Illya exited the lift, an alarm rang through the building. Grabbing his holstered gun, he ran to the Commutation's room to find out where the breech in security was. Being a senior agent, he was required to respond to all alerts.

"In front of Del Floria's, a car sped by and dropped two bodies." The lady assigned to monitor all access points shouted out the moment she spotted Kuryakin rushing through the doors to stop in front of the screen. "Section Three agents are already on the scene."

"That's Solo and Dancer." He called out in a controlled voice. Illya tried to get a grip on his own fear and put his gun away. "I'm going to escort them to Medical. Tell Mr. Waverly, I'll report when I get them on their way to treatment."

Illya began to shake while he ran up the stairs and down a small hallway to get to the tailor shop, not knowing what he would find and where was Lexi? He had to push thoughts of her to the back of his mind so he could concentrate on Napoleon and April. He didn't know why he knew that was April at the entrance and not Lexi, but he just knew.

When he got to the thick metal door, Del and other workers were bringing the two agents into headquarters' reception area. Luckily, they were somewhat able to walk and were placed into the seats by the windows.

Illya cringed as he looked to see two badly battered agents surrounded by Section Three agents. They were covered with blankets and the medics were assessing them while they waited for the gurneys.

"Illya," Napoleon called out to him when he saw the bright blond color of his partner's hair in the crowd and beckoned to him. "I'm sorry, I couldn't save her. They killed her."

Not wanting to hear what he was saying, Illya grabbed him friend's hand and looked into his bruised eyes. "Who are they?"

"I don't know," Napoleon said, shaking his head, grimacing in pain, and then fought the medics who were trying to bring his hands up from cradling the gunshot wound in his thigh. "I'm sorry, Illya, so sorry…"

Kuryakin stood rooted to the floor while the medics whisked the distraught man away. He then turned his attention to April, who had been blankly staring ahead and numbly following the medics' directions to lie down on the gurney.

"April," Illya said softly. He knelt down beside her, taking her scratched and bruised hand in his, and started to rub her sore wrist where handcuffs had been. "April."

Slowly, she turned her gaze toward him and moved her mouth to say something, but the voice wasn't there. Fear shrouded her eyes when she began to slowly recognize him. She looked around, trying to see who else was near her with irrational fear. "Napoleon?"

"He's here and on the way to Medical…" Illya began to try to calm her down, but this only agitated her more and she violently shook her head. "No, he's the one who hurt her. He killed Lexi after…, I saw it. They gave us something to make everything go funny and fuzzy before I watched. Just like the rest of the girls they control… He said that she was to be made an example of for us girls for sticking our nose in where it didn't belong. He picked her to suffer, because she was caught in the boss's office looking where she shouldn't be and then Napoleon showed up where he wasn't supposed to be, laughed, and started to beat… rape her right in front of us.

"They found out about me after I tried to talk to him and ask him why… They found out that I was UNCLE. Don't trust him. Don't trust Napoleon."

Stunned by her rash of words, Illya saw the track of injection marks that ran up her arm when he looked from her hand, to her arm, and then to her unfocused eyes. It made him wonder what kind of conditioning and torture they put her through to make her believe that Napoleon would hurt a fellow agent and friend.

"I'll keep it in mind, April." He agreed with her and lightly stroked her bruised cheek. "We have to get you to Medical..."

"Thank you, Illya." April nodded, calming down with his touch and words at first and then began to shiver and look at him funny as they took her away.

Seeing one of the doctors from Medical, he walked over to him before he could leave and took him by the arm. "Paul…"

"Yes, Illya," the doctor asked, stopping to talk with one of his frequent patients. "I really need to get to Medical. Allen's handling another emergent situation. I've got to prep Napoleon for surgery. The bullet didn't hit anything vital, but I need to stop the bleeding and clean it."

"Just keep those two separated until I can find out what has happened. I'll be down to get your initial report in half an hour." Illya released the man's arm. Paul gave him a curious look, but nodded his head and turned to follow the two hurt agents back down the hall.

Illya tiredly sat down on a seat in the near empty reception area, placed his elbows on his knees, and ran his hand through his hair. Fear and dread filled every part of his body and he could hear a voice inside his head scream, "No! She's not dead."

Professionalism and honor to duty were the only two things that pushed him out of the chair and made him walk to Mr. Waverly's office. Just like when Napoleon was missing or hurt, he concentrated on what he could do to find Lexi and bring her back alive if possible, even if it meant the end of his own life. If not, to take care of her body like they had planned.

MFU/MFU

Illya Kuryakin walked into Mr. Waverly's office, but chose to stop and stand by the doorway. He silently watched the recording of surveillance tape of Napoleon and April being pushed out of the unidentifiable car speeding by the tailor shop.

Waverly's back was to him while he watched the older man calmly puff on his pipe as he repeatedly replayed the tape again three times in a row. Illya stood quietly. He pushed the angry raw emotions back in him so he wouldn't go racing like a bat out of hell to find Lexi's body or go to be with Napoleon in Medical. He needed to assess what information he could from the security tapes.

After the third run-through of the one-minute surveillance film, Waverly froze the frame and he turned to face him. "Your thoughts on this incident, Mr. Kuryakin?"

"The license plate was obscured. They were going just fast enough or slow enough to push Mr. Solo and Miss Dancer out without too much damage so they could relay their experience and messages to us. They know where our headquarters are."

"Yes, very good," Waverly said with a nod and waved Kuryakin with his pipe to sit down, but not in his usual chair across from him, but one closer. It was then he noticed a mug a steaming tea made from the blend that he only drank in his own office and lab.

Illya stiffened, but his face remained blank even though his eye widen. He snatched a glance at Waverly and then back down to the tea. He knew that Waverly had a soft spot for Lexi and him, but didn't outwardly show it very often.

"She's not dead." Illya heard him say; feeling Waverly intently watching him when the release of tension across his tight shoulder drooped with the news. "She has been beaten, shot, and raped. I got a call from a friend of mine in the FBI and they said that she was left in front of their headquarters, as if they were sent a calling card. Does Miss Lane know anyone at the FBI that we need to be concerned with?"

After the initial relief of hearing that Lexi was alive, Illya searched his thoughts for anything that she would have said about the FBI. He knew that he was one of their favorite Soviets to watch, because of his status at UNCLE, but they didn't seem aware that she was working or operating in the United States due to all of the aliases his secret lover uses.

Sometimes the FBI agents followed him, but they were never intrusive and got easily bored with his bare apartment and simple lifestyle. He didn't know if they kept close tabs on his girlfriends or anyone else he was in contact with.

"Not that she spoke of to me. We didn't talk about our jobs before she left the KGB. The less we knew about what the other one was doing, the better. I don't think they even connected her with me. Where is she?"

"They took her to a hospital near downtown. I've sent Dr. Allen to bring her here and give me a full report when he's back," Waverly said calmly, put down his new pipe, and turned back to the video screen after flipping a couple of more switches. "Now, here is the feed from the reception area where you encountered Mr. Solo and Miss Dancer…"

"Yes, I have yet to go to Medical to get an update on their conditions. Mr. Solo is the one who told me about Miss Lane's death and Miss Dancer confirmed what was reported to you about her injuries.

"Miss Dancer stated that she was drugged and confused, but seemed agitated and adamant that Mr. Solo had inflicted those injuries and rape. She confirmed his report of Miss Lane's death by gunshot. If we believe what Miss Dancer believes, the only reason UNCLE's actions were found out was, because she approached Mr. Solo after Miss Lane was supposedly killed. Her injuries and apparent death were the direct results of being caught while trying to infiltrate their center of operations."

"A very plausible theory, Mr. Kuryakin," Waverly agreed, the smoke ring around him and Illya grew bigger and bigger. "Miss Lane was found to have Mr. Solo's yellow badge clutched tightly in her hand. What I can't understand, is the group's connection with the FBI. I haven't come across any shred of evidence that they are involved with this group and what did Miss Lane say to make them mistake her for a federal agent? "Very odd…"

"Yes sir," Illya agreed, shifted in his seat, and looked at his watch.

"Oh, yes," Waverly understood the nervous actions in the young agent and cleared his throat. "I've contacted Dr. Thompson to get blood samples from both Mr. Solo and Miss Dancer. You can fill him in on Miss Lane's condition since she considers him her partner. Check on Dr. Allen and his status with bringing her to headquarters, then report back to me.

"I've sent for Mr. Slate and I want you to work with him in piecing as much information on their mission together to see if they can tell us who we are dealing with and how to destroy them. I won't be intimidated by these actions and THRUSH will not get those security codes that you and UNCLE have been working hard to protect."

"Yes, sir," Illya said with a nod and got up from his chair with the offered mug of tea in his hands to warm the cold feeling that ran throughout his body while he headed down to Medical.

MFU/MFU

"Illya," Dr. Paul Sheppard called out to the agent. He was removing his surgical hat and stuffing it into the back pocket of his scrubs. "We have a problem."

"I've got to a lot of problems right now," he said with a heavy smile. "Can you narrow it down to which problem it is, Paul?"

"I can, but let's not talk in the hall." He pointed to a row of chairs in a deserted alcove where people would wait for those in surgery. "I see that you've something to drink already, so I won't try to make you more comfortable."

"Your bedside manner is always refreshing." Illya grumbled with a smirk on his face. It was the young black doctor's dry humor that drew the Section Two agent to be friends with him more than most doctors that worked for UNCLE. "I'll let you rub my feet later."

"Hey, getting you something to drink to relax you is in the Hippocratic Oath, whereas rubbing your feet is extra and at my hourly salary, you can't afford me," Paul smiled and then instantly became serious. "That's not Napoleon Solo I took that bullet out of just now."

"No?" Illya raised his eyes from his mug of tea at his lips to look at Paul. He swallowed the hot liquid down awkwardly to prevent it from burning the roof of his mouth.

"No, although he's a good copy," Paul said calmly. "I just recently set his leg bone from mission a few months ago and it didn't show up on his x-ray. I did a full visual assessment and I noticed that most of the superficial markings are there, but he's missing a few resent characteristics that only those who know Napoleon would be aware of. Whoever put this much work in making a copy of Solo didn't have a chance to properly finish the job. If they had, we'd be unable to tell them apart, physically at least."

"So we must've found out about their operation before they could properly launch their plan." Illya surmised. "Where is he now?"

"Well," Paul smiled and pulled his lanky body back and wrapped his arms behind his head as he leaned back in the seat next to the spy. "I figured that you'd want to dust off your instruments of interrogation, so I had the nurses setup a bed in one of the detention cells. It's surprising how much they look like our regular hospital rooms…"

"I always thought the medical staff here was a little sadistic." Illya snorted. He eyed the man from the side of his mug. "Thanks Paul, I knew that I could count on you. Is it awake yet?"

"He should be getting to the room now. I have security aware of the situation and some of the nurses have agreed to help keep up the illusion that we don't know he's not the real McCoy." Paul looked at his watch when he pulled it out of his chest pocket and placed it on his muscular wrist. "Now, about April Dancer…"

"I'm all ears." Illya set down his mug, crossed his legs, and rubbed his eyes. One problem turned into two. If there's an imposter in UNCLE, where was the real Napoleon in all of this?

"She's in better shape than I first thought. She was slapped around a bit, but nothing's broken. She'll be sore and stiff from the bruising and her wrists are raw, but they'll heal in a short time."

"And mentally," he asked. "What did you find in her blood chemistry? I know that she went through some type of chemical conditioning."

"Yes, George took a sample of her blood and is analyzing it now. He did give April a broad spectrum antidote to help clear her mind. She should be able to tell you what went on. We'll keep her overnight to see if there are any side effects. That'll give George and Lexi enough time to customize a formula to counteract it."

"Paul," Illya said quietly in a controlled voice. "Lexi was on that mission with Napoleon and April. Allen went to go get her from an outside hospital."

"Oh god, Illya, I didn't know," Paul straightened up with shock and concern. "I didn't know she even gone again. I just saw her two days ago around lunch time. Does George know? What's wrong with her? She's not dead is she?"

"Not dead, but I don't know anything except that she was beaten, raped, and shot." Illya shrugged his shoulders before they stiffened again. "No, George doesn't know yet."

"Well, I better get back and wait for them to arrive." Paul rubbed his hands over legs to get rid out of his own frustration before he stood up and placed a large hand on Illya's shoulder.

"Thanks Paul," His blue eyes looked up to see a set a friendly warm brown ones. "I'll go and talk with April. Keep me informed to when she shows up."

"Will do and I'll send George to find you when I see him."

Paul quietly left Illya to his own thoughts while he finished the last of the tea alone in the dim alcove.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"April," Illya's soft voice came through the hospital door before it opened. The room was dark with only a side lamp on. Looking around the sparse room, he had to smile to the comment Paul had made about medical rooms and detention cells looking the same.

He silently drifted over to the bed and noticed that dyed haired blond was sleeping softly. An IV bag of saline dripped slowly next to the bed, but nothing else. He hated to have to wake her from what was probably the first restful sleep in a long time.

Looking, at April's pale and bruised face, he saw the stress of dreams and conditioning still had their claws in her. Illya cringed, knowing how that felt. So many real and made up demons to conquer. It's the price to pay for the life they lead; the darker half of service.

"April," Illya spoke slightly louder into her ear while he bent down to her side. "I need to talk to you."

"Humm…Illya." April first smiled seductively before she began to rustle when she heard his low, deep voice. Like a cat curled up in a ball, she twisted and stretched with artful grace and was instantly awake. "Illya!"

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, ignoring her startled voice after she recognized him and stiffening her body in defense. "I need to talk to you about what happened."

"Do you believe me that he isn't Napoleon and that he's the one that killed Lexi?" Her eyes were piercing a hole right through him. She was upset with him for even questioning her further about this subject.

"Yes, he's not Napoleon and Medical confirmed it," he said and watched her physically relax a little. "What happened?"

"Lexi and I had gained one of the boss's right hand man's acceptance into their group. We search his office where we found the hidden files were kept. I was the one who reported what we found to Napoleon on a nightly basis when he would request one of us for a business call.

"Lexi had found out something in the boss's office and she'd made plans to search it while I distracted the guards. She got caught and I…I…was told to quit playing around with the men and go meet a john. That, I was requested personally."

"Who was this 'John'?" he asked gently. He ignored her stuttering as if she hadn't paused in her story.

"I don't know!" she said in a shrill voice that made Illya blink at her increasing agitation, but didn't stop her. "Some guy whom I used one of Lexi's formulas on, took his money, and then went home for a bath and a good night's sleep. The next day I was called into a meeting at the downtown strip club."

"Do you remember where that club was or it's name?" Illya patiently asked, so not to increase the level of her stress. "Where downtown is it?"

"I…I…can't remember…three blocks southwest of the Rockefeller Center." April said in a huff. "Can we stop now? I'm so… tired and I don't want to relive what that bastard did to Lexi."

"I understand, but I just need to know a few more things and then I'll let you sleep, I promise." Illya tried to take her hand into his, but she pulled it roughly away. Puzzled by the action, he thought maybe it was the drugs still in her system that was causing this odd behavior. "Did you see where Lexi was shot?"

"In the back and tossed off the edge of the stage." April had closed her eyes and curled back into a ball. "Her body was rolled up in a sheet of plastic and taken outside. I don't know anything else. I was drugged and couldn't blow my cover. I had to wait a few hours to talk with Napoleon to ask him why he did what he did. He hit me and forced me to into a car with him and then we were thrown out in front of UNCLE. I don't even know what she'd found out."

"It's all right, April," Illya reassuringly said before she suddenly turned to face him with anger and disgust written plainly on her face.

"I did what Waverly and Napoleon told me to do to get rid of the ones threatening UNCLE. I've done what I was told to do to secure those computer codes; the rest is now up to Napoleon. I know where my loyalties lie, do you?"

"My loyalties?" taken aback, he repeated her question, but didn't understand what she was accusing him of. "They have always been to UNCLE and my friends."

"Then you better go find Napoleon so you can help him finish his part of the mission or all of this will be for nothing," April shouted out. She glared at the Russian agent and then turned away from him in the bed. "I need to rest now; go away."

"I'm going," he said softly. "Get some rest and I'll talk to you later when you're feeling better."

With another problem added to his growing list, Illya left April to rest and walked out of the room. He headed to the end of the plain, grey hallway to lean heavily against the wall while running his hands through his long bangs to calm his racing thoughts. Seeing a phone on the wall, he picked it up, rang Mr. Waverly's office, and reported his strange interview with April to him.

MFU/MFU

"Illya," George said breathlessly, He'd caught the Section Two agent's image at the end of the hall, hanging up the phone. "She's finally here."

Without a word between them, they quickly walked down the other hallway and around the corner to the treatment area of Medical. Illya took it for granted that Paul told George what had happened to Lexi and he didn't mind; glad actually. Dr. George Thompson was her chosen partner, shared a lab with her, and was a good friend to both of them.

Illya knew that the good doctor was here to help protect Lexi while he was gone and she wasn't out on a mission. While on missions, everyone watched over everyone, but something went wrong; now Napoleon was missing and both April and Lexi were hurt.

When the two men, one short and blond and the other tall with sandy brown hair, were at the doors to the main monitored hospital room, Dr. Robert Allen walked out of the door to stand in front of them to block their path.

"I need to tell you what's happened to her and what you can expect before you see her. I'll not have you two tromp around in there and ask a lot of questions," Allen warned both men looking specifically at Illya. "She's just recovering from surgery and drifting in and out of the effects of anesthesia. Don't tax her too much. She'll be fuzzy on what she can remember for a while."

"I promise." Illya said softly, knowing the hoops he had to jump through to make Allen happy. He looked and acted like an old English bulldog with his gruff demeanor and bulky, compact body. Illya had to give up some control to him and allow him to set the rules on how Section Two agents were to act in his Medical ward. "What are her injuries?"

"From head to toe," Allen began with a professional calm. "She's got a concussion that will leave her with a pounding headache; a broken jaw that has been wired shut; bruising in the shape of fingerprints on her upper arms and neck; a spiral fracture on the right wrist; and a few vaginal lacerations that required stitching. Add a bevy of scrapes and bruises on the rest of her body."

"You left out where she was shot and how bad is it."

"In the back, right next her shoulder blade and it should have killed her, but for one thing that she may have to thank the KGB for someday."

Allen registered the look of surprise on both Illya and George's faces with a snort and he held up a small bag that contained a bloody device with a bullet deeply imbedded in it.

"Her old KGB homing device stopped the bullet from passing through to her heart and saved her life. The surgeon was able to remove it from her without too much distress. She'll mostly be stiff and sore."

"Can I see her now?" Illya asked. He began to shift back and forth, anxious to really see if she was truly alive or not.

Since coming to work for UNCLE, Lexi was never injured to this extent. She was mostly the hidden, secret assassin working for the KGB. Illya wondered how Lexi took it so gracefully knowing that he was hurt and couldn't be there for him. Having her here, made it harder for him to think like a detached agent. It was the same with Napoleon, like brothers so in tune with each other, it was hard to not think of him hurt and captured while he tried to find out what was going on.

"Yes," Allen said softly, seeing Illya's determined look. "I've her on a heavy dose of pain killers and she won't be able to talk clearly until I unwire her jaw, but let her hear your voice. She's been searching for your hand to hold for quite a while."

Illya only responded with a nod of his head after Allen let him and George pass through the doors. If Allen hadn't warned him what to expect, his heart would have sunk even lower than it already was.

Lexi looked so frail lying on the hospital bed with its head cranked up slightly and oxygen running in her nose. Her dyed blond hair pushed roughly back away from her pale face that was distorted with a swollen jaw, blooming with a purplish color joining the finger marks that danced around her neck and arms. The nail marks jumped out at the edges of the stark-white, oversized hospital gown.

Delicate fingers were the only things obtruding out of the cast on her right arm that rested on a pillow at her side. Lexi's lower body was covered by a thin, white blanket, which was tucked tightly around her. The heart monitor's beeped softly in the background.

Even with her eyes closed, a grimace of pain peppered her face and her left hand twitched. Two large bore IVs were taped firmly in place to prevent them from falling out with this movement.

George held back while he watched Illya trot around the bed to sit on the edge, by her seemingly searching hand, to take it in his. The twitching instantly stopped, because she knew who it was, without opening her eyes.

Illya leaned forward to say something to her in their special language, smiling when she squeezed his hand, bending down to kiss hers gently. "I even brought George with me."

Lexi tried to smile, but brought her hand up to her cheek from the pain it caused her and then reached out for George's hand, which he took and stepped up closer to the bed.

"Hey, sunshine, see what you get when you don't come to the lab everyday to work with me?" George smiled after she angrily pointed her index finger at him in a scolding motion. She opened her eyes up a fraction to look at him. "I know, Section Two first, then the lab."

Taking a haggard breath in, Lexi grabbed at the oxygen tubing while trying to focus her blurry eyes on Illya and George. A dry cough choked in her throat when she tried to swallow, but the movement was uncoordinated. She held her throat to try and ease the sharp pain it caused.

. "No," Illya said patiently while he replaced the nasal canula to its proper place. "You need to leave it on. I'll check with the doctors to see if you can have something to drink to ease your throat…"

Angry, Lexi weakly pushed Illya's hands away from her face and tried to shake her head no. A wave of dizziness must have followed, because she stopped what she doing to close her eyes and grabbed the bedrail. Her white lips quivered; forcibly shutting them in an attempt not to throw up through her nose.

After a few tense moments, Lexi let out a breath of relief and opened her eyes. Silently, she mouthed the name," Napoleon".

"Yes, we have the imposter here in one of detention cells. Is he the one that hurt you?" Illya asked.

Lexi nodded with a look of relief on her face and then mouthed the name "April".

"She's here and safe in medical," Illya said. He gently brushed her hair behind her ear.

"I gave her some of our specially mixed batch of antidotes to help her with the chemical conditioning they gave her," George interrupted proudly, causing Lexi to shift her tense eyes to him and then relaxed a little. "She should be over the most of it by now. This reminds me, I have to draw her blood to run a tox-screen in five minutes. I'll let you two alone for a while."

"George," Illya walked from the bed, with him to the door of the room. "Are you familiar with our interrogation protocols?"

"Yes." George hesitantly nodded and he swallowed nervously. "But, I've never helped out in one."

"Meet me in the detention cell in ten minutes. Bring the medications listed. All you need to do is follow my lead, do as I say, and don't get upset by whatever he says. If he thinks that he's gotten to you, especially since you're so connected with Lexi, you'll loose your edge. He doesn't know that's she's still alive. Can I trust you to help me with this?"

"I'll try to do my best," George said, pulled his thoughts together, and flicked a quick glance to the person in the bed. "In ten minutes, your lab."

Illya pushed the hospital door shut and turned back to look at Lexi, who was watching him in return. Her glassy eyes tracked him as he walked back to her side and took her hand again.

"I have to go find Napoleon." He felt her hand squeeze his tightly. Her eyes weren't bright like they were before and her lids began to droop. He lightly shook her hand to keep her awake. "What can you tell me? Can you tell me who they are or where they might have him?"

He watched her slowly move her head from side to side. She tried to focus on what he was asking. Frustration and the need for sleep furled Lexi's eyebrows while she attempted to find and say the words he wanted. Her hand shook in his. She pantomimed the need for a pen. Looking around, Illya found her chart, tore off a piece, and grabbed a pen from his black jacket.

Laying the scrap of paper under her hand, she fumbled to grip the pen. Illya hoped that she'd be able to write what she couldn't say. Helping her by holding the paper still on the metal clipboard she wrote. He made out the first letter scribbled unseen by Lexi.

"T?" The question got a nod and moved the paper over slightly for her to draw the next letter.

"R or A?" he asked, it was hard to tell, but she raised her hand up once to tell him it was the first choice. "R. You think it's a trap?"

Lexi closed her eyes, nodded, and dropped the pen while pointing at him.

"All this to set a trap for me, why?" he asked in surprise. "I've been gone, working on a project for UNCLE. I can't believe that this was all for me."

With a turn and wave of her wrist and her index finger out, she motioned the letter c to get him to look at her hand and grunted out a bark.

"C? O. O or D? D. E. Code?" Illya looked up to her eyes for confirmation and she gave the smallest nod of her head, then closed her eyes after her strength had reached its limit, and her hand dropped down on the bed.

Illya watched her sleep for a moment while he thought to himself. She must have found out that they had wanted the computer codes the he was spearheading for UNCLE's new international computer data base. THRUSH and any other groups were bent on corrupting their system by to getting their hands on those codes. He wondered how they found out about it and that he was their lead agent.

Looking back at Lexi's hand, he gently placed it under the blanket, kissed her forehead, and left the bare hospital room. Illya knew that she would want him to go find Napoleon and that she would be fine here in Medical to wait for him. She couldn't help him any more for now and went to take care of his next problem; interrogating the imposter to hopefully find out more about this trap.

MFU/MFU

Kuryakin walked into the detention cell with a foam cup of hot tea in his hand and his lab coat on. His anxiety over his lost partner was slowly eating away at his impregnable veneer and the thought of having to walk into a trap to save him made his nerves jump. He'd taken several deep breaths to calm his himself down the hallway before he would have his "friendly" talk with the Solo look-alike.

Quietly, he walked to the foot of the bed and watched the man in the bed lightly sleep off the effects of the anesthesia and pain medication. He wasn't restrained, but it didn't matter to Illya. Security was right outside the door and he had his gun next to his body under his coat. The imposter was searched thoroughly while unconscious and found to have little to defend himself.

Picking up the medical chart hooked on the bed, Illya scanned it while he waited for the stranger to notice him. He had instructed George to wait in the monitoring room until he gave him the signal to come into the room.

"Are you going to stand there all sulky, Illya, or are you going to talk to me," the man said calmly in his partner's voice.

It was startling to hear how perfectly this imposter had mastered Napoleon's tone and mannerisms. All Illya could do was to look up and smirk slightly as if he was glad to see him healthy again. "Well, you know me…"

"Have you found her yet? I mean her body yet?" A tight, upset voice resonated throughout the room and leveled a concerned eye to Illya's deceptively depressed movements around the room. The blond agent was trying to avoid eye contact, because of Lexi's falsified death.

"I don't know where to look, do you?" Illya asked the imposter, sat close to him on the bed, his holstered gun away from him, and began playing with the edge of the blanket to prevent him from looking into his eyes and to keep his nervous fingers busy. "Did you see her get killed? Can you tell me what happened?"

"No, I only know what April said about her getting caught and being shot. The thugs in the car confirmed it. April was the one who reported mostly to me in the hotel room. Lexi was the one who seemed to be getting real friendly with one of the boss man's head men until they found her searching his office and he made an example of her to the rest of the call girls.

"I didn't get involved until I got a frantic message from April to pick her up and I was met at the door of the gentlemen's club by the hired help. During the struggle I was shot, dragged to the car, and thrown out just outside of headquarters."

"Do you know who they are?" Illya asked quietly, using his vision of what Lexi looked like laying in Medical, to convey his pain and anxiety, as he feigned sorrow for her death.

"No," he said, his arms dropped to his sides with a bounce of clinched fists. "All I heard them call him was 'Mr. X".

Illya slowly raised his eyes to the imposter and held them quietly for a moment before he nodded. The man's brown eyes had the same green flecks shine in his eyes, but didn't convey the warmth and true caring for him or the woman he hurt like Napoleon's did. His pupils weren't dilated like they should and they shifted too much.

"Mr. X," Illya repeated softly, looking back down at the blanket that he was toying with.

"You don't believe me." The man stated and sat up in the hospital bed, leaning toward him.

Illya hadn't moved back from this sudden shift in space between them, but struck out like a rattlesnake and had his gun out of his holster and in the face of the imposter.

What was impressive to Illya was that the dark haired man didn't even flinch at the gun being shoved in his face. He didn't even focus on the gun, but only smiled and maintained his eye contact with the true UNCLE agent.

"No, I don't believe you." A stone hard face met the imposter's with a cold, icy voice that was agreeing with the man. "You're not Napoleon Solo. Medical confirmed it while you were in surgery. Your likeness to him is impressive. Specimens were taken to determine if you're the one who beat and raped her."

"Ah, yes. You did find her body. Your girlfriend," the man evilly smiled, but didn't move and practically sat nose to gun to nose with Kuryakin. "She's a good lay. Although, I did give her a real bad beating for that foul mouth of hers. That slut's too smart for her own good; snooping around, playing the dumb blond to attract the bosses, and then turn around to talk with one of the other sluts in French and another in Spanish."

"Is that all?" Illya asked in calm control. Telling the Section Two agent intimate details of how Lexi suffered was not going to make him loose his concentration.

"No," he said and his smile turned to a smirk. "I broke her jaw with some brass knuckles so that it wouldn't leave marks on my hands just before I shot her in the back. Right where her heart should've been, because I had to look pristine for you."

"Me?" Illya asked.

The imposter decided to stop trying to get a reaction from Kuryakin over Lexi's painful death. His gun remained firm and steady in his hand.

"Yes, obviously know by now, I'm not quite done yet." The man laughed in a bone-chilling likeness of Solo. He even had Napoleon's little head shake down to a tee. "I was meant to replace Solo at a later date; then that got pushed up with UNCLE's presence in our actions. We didn't know that cunt worked for Waverly until that other whore, Dancer, came running to me after the big show. I was offered as a sacrifice to get to you."

"Where is he?" Illya asked about his partner.

"Oh, he's fine, for now." The man smiled and continued on in a hushed voice so the sensors couldn't pick up what was said. "I'm here to talk with you for my employer, Mr. X."

"I have a job and a partner." Illya kept his answers and responses short to betray nothing.

"Yes," he sighed in boredom. "What we can offer is so much more. Look, you get me out of UNCLE headquarters and come talk with my boss at his place. See what he's got planned for you and this world. Behave yourself and Solo'll be let go."

"If I don't," Illya asked with a raised eyebrow.

"That is what you won't know. We could just simply kill him, brainwash him to destroy UNCLE from the inside out, or send him to THRUSH to be tortured and let them do our work for us. You know what he is capable of."

"Why not keep him? Why me?"

"You offer more of what we want," he leaned in closer. "You're fluent in multiple languages, you create weapons and blow things up. Your use of accents and slim body build allows you to infiltrate many cultures to seek required information, even under a heavy custom.

"Gymnastic gives you an edge to escape most traps, along with you ability to pick locks. You're a crack shot with both hands and just as deadly with a knife. Finally, you're the only one left from General Boris Kuryakin's experiment to create a super spy and assassin."

"I should be flattered." Illya eyes slightly widened with the impostor's knowledge of his hidden past.

"We have quite an extensive file on you: the KGB, GRU, UNCLE, CIA, FBI, and THRUSH have brought us bits of information that we now have enough to put it all together. We even know that you descend from Viking nobility."

"Impressive, but if I go, will I be able to leave?"

"That'll be up to you and Mr. X, of course," the man smiled darkly again. "The longer it takes you to get me out of here, the shorter Solo's life will be."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Illya sat back and put the gun down, but didn't replace the safety or loosen his grip. He was staring at the imposter, mentally listing his options. "Can you walk?"

"Yes, the wound is superficial," he flexed his leg to prove his point. "You're not to bring your extra weapons or knives, only your gun. Now, where are my clothes or you could get me a clean pair of pants from that tailor shop of yours?"

"I have to report to Mr. Waverly…"

"No, there's no more time to wait for that." The man stood up and limped around the room. "No homing devices, no one following us, and no listening devices. You'll be searched, stripped, and punished if orders are not completed to Mr. X's requirements."

Kuryakin stood up as well, holstered his gun, and signaled George to come into the detention cell.

"Oh, and lose the labcoat, makes you look like a dork."

Just as Illya was about retort to him as if he were the real Napoleon Solo, George came into the room with a syringe in his hand. The imposter stopped in his tracks and looked back at Illya with a raise of his eyebrow.

"Dr. Thompson," Illya said with smile playing on his lips, but his eyes were deadly serious. "You can put the syringes away for now. I need your help in procuring some clothes for Mr…"

"Solo, Napoleon Solo," the imposter said with a coy smile on his face and he held his hand out to George. "How are you?"

A surprised George looked to Illya for direction in what to do and Illya just shrugged his shoulders and removed his white garment. "Take my labcoat, go to Mr. Solo's locker, and get me his spare suit. We might as well let this man leave headquarters in a style befitting the one he's trying to impersonate."

"Mr. Kuryakin?" George asked, although he saw them talk, the sensors couldn't pick up what was being said. He looked at Illya with confused, hurt eyes, knowing that this was the man who had beat up his partner and Illya's girlfriend.

"George, I want you to get those clothes and take my labcoat." Illya's tone of voice didn't change, although his blue eyes flashed the importance of what he was telling him. Nodding, George started to leave the room, but before he could open the door, an arm reached out in front to stop him.

"I'll take that if you don't mind." The imposter took the syringe from George's hand.

They both looked to Illya who remained passive and crossed his arms in front of himself. He and the Napoleon look-a-like waited for him to leave. With a nod to Illya, George left the room.

"He seems pleasant." The imposter commented sociably while they waited and started to twirl the syringe.

"Yes, he was, considering he's Lexi's lab partner. If I'd let him, I think that he would have beaten you to a pulp," Illya said matter-of-factly. "He was hoping to use that drug on you."

"What about you?" the brazen man asked with raised eyebrows. He looked more closely at the pale yellow chemical in the syringe and at Illya through it. "I did rape her, beat that smug smile from her face, and shot her right through the heart."

"I plan to take my revenge, but not until I know that my partner is safe," Illya said evenly and gave the imposter a look that could freeze every drop of blood in his body. "This is only a temporary arrangement to make ends meet."

"You are a cold bastard, Mr. Kuryakin."

The two men only stared at each other quietly when a knock at the door interrupted the silence. George handed the suit of clothes to the imposter and gave a sideways look back to Illya. The Slavic face didn't reveal what was going on in his mind when he nodded to the taller man. Illya then turned to watch the false man dress.

"Nice duds," the imposter said and placed the syringe in his suit coat, tugged at his cuffs, and pointed to the door. "It's time to leave, Illya."

George handed Illya a black triangle and started to follow the men out of the detention cell. Illya took the badge, pinned it on the imposter's jacket, and brought his hand up to stop George after a few steps.

"Sorry, sport." The imposter said with a smirk. "Only the Ice Prince is going with me. You stay here and mourn that bitch of a lab partner of yours. Man, it's a shame that she's dead, she was such a good lay before I killed her…"

George stated to walk toward the man again. Even if he did sound and look like Napoleon, he knew that the real one would never say nasty things like that about any woman. Illya stopped him by putting himself in front of the advancing doctor and gave him a stern look before he half turned to see the imposter snicker at George's reaction to his taunts.

"We're going," Illya said and finished turning toward the door and opened it. "Follow me if you want to leave headquarters alive so we can get the real Napoleon Solo back."

"Righto," said the imposter and had to hustle to keep up with the slim Russian.

"Dr. Thompson," a deep voice rang out through the detention cell making the startled man jump. "Bring me Mr. Kuryakin's labcoat and report to me what was said, right now."

"Yes, sir," George said, trying to swallow some of his frustration and anger from what the imposter had said about the monstrous things he had done to Lexi. He didn't know what was all going on or why Illya was so accommodating, but maybe, he could help in some way.

MFU/MFU

"Wake up, sleepy head."

A calling voice broke though Lexi's warm, soft blackness of sleep. She felt someone tugging at her eyelids. The brightness of the overhead lights sent a rain of pain to the back of her head that erupted like a thunderbolt. Shutting her eyes tight to calm the storm, Lexi tried to fall back into the lull of darkness and quiet.

"Oh no, you don't." The female's voice persisted and was even more forceful in pulling Lexi's eyelids open.

This time, the light wasn't so blinding and her eyes were starting to focus. Looking at the female person, she started to get clearer. Lexi's mind began to register who was standing above her. April Dancer.

With a jerk of her body, Lexi tried to pull away from her as far as she could on the bed before she remembered that her wrist was broken, the pain ran up her right arm. A grunt of frustration rang out through her clinched, wired teeth. The weight of the cast made it hard to move from where it rested on a pillow

"Why so nervous to see me, traitor," April asked in a dark purr and roughly grabbed Lexi's shoulder to pull her back, closer to her on the bed. "Ah, you're remembering what Napoleon and I did to you."

Lexi looked up at April with fear and anger. The senior female agent's fingernails painfully digging into Lexi's flesh of her upper arm, pinned her to the bed. They matched perfectly to the ones she had made before.

This sudden turn in April led Lexi to believe that when she was caught, they conditioned her to believe that Illya was working with a corrupt KGB faction, a sleeper, waiting to be given a signal, to be ready when it was time to destroy UNCLE.

Lexi had found this out at the end of the mission just before they'd discovered her in the office that night and tried to reason with her friend while she help torture her.

The confused April jumped to the conclusion that Lexi was working with Illya in the KGB and was a traitor too. She'd been Illya's partner and lover from the Soviet Union; before he'd came to UNCLE.

April believed that she was following Waverly's and Napoleon's orders in getting the traitors out of UNCLE and rid of them "nice and quiet". It would be hard to accuse the Russian at headquarters, because of all the friends they had made and the possibly to turn others to betray UNCLE.

Dancer thought that Lexi had died, but when George came to draw her blood, she found out differently. He was his normal chatty self, talking about how his wonderful partner had survived the gunshot wound and where she was found. It was more than April could take, but she had to wait until she was released from Medical herself to complete the job.

It was Napoleon's idea to kill her while on the mission. Illya would go to any length to find her killer and Napoleon then would take care of him. Lexi just didn't die as they had planned it. Damn her!

"What I can't understand is why you didn't die!" April sneered and her nails continued to dig deeper into the already bruised skin. "George was dumb enough to tell me that you were saved by the homing device in your back. Just goes to prove that you're KGB through and through. Commie bitch!"

"Awwprrrill..," Lexi said with a pleading tone while she slowly shook her head and then looked to the mirror for help. "Noaw…noaw...plueasse."

"Oh, don't think that anyone here in headquarters is going to help you. I sent the nurse's away on a supper break, so no one is here to save that pathetic red hide of yours."

Lexi tried to struggle out of April's grip when the aggressive agent started to crawl up onto the bed and straddled the injured agent's hip, leaning painfully over Lexi's casted right arm. With one of her hands, April held down Lexi's good arm by her wrist as she pulled out a syringe with the other.

"Stop struggling, Lexi," April exasperatedly said and pulled the cap off the needle with her teeth and spit it out. "I'll plunge this into your neck if you don't stop. Right into your carotid and let you bleed to death."

"Waahaut issss?" Lexi asked, trying to stall April and think of a way out, pawing at her IV lines with the casted fingers.

"I can't understand you. You must speak more clearly, you Russian whore." April sarcastically remarked. "But, I'll tell you since you asked so nicely. It's a heavy sedative I stole from the nurse's station's lock box; it's more peaceful way for you to go than you deserve. I'll just give you this syringe full and you'll drift off to neverland.

"The medical staff won't even know that you've stopped breathing, because you'll be sleeping off your concussion. What a surprise it will be for them and I'll be out of here with no one the wiser."

"Noaw…" Lexi weakly pleaded again and continued to keep eye contact with the mad Section Two agent.

"Sorry," April said and smiled softly. "It's time for a nap. No more stalling. Illya will meet you soon wherever god-hating Communists go for an afterlife."

Before April could turn the needle down and aim for Lexi's shoulder, Lexi pulled the IV tubing hard with her fingers. The glass bottles and pole swayed and fell toward the women. The metal hook hit April on her head with enough force for her to drop the syringe. The injection hit the floor and rolled under the side table by the hospital bed.

That distraction was enough for Lexi to push April off her and awkwardly jump to her feet as she cradled her casted arm to her side. She swayed, almost falling to the floor from the delayed dizziness that followed her actions and began to stumble to the door.

Stunned by the falling IV pole that caused her to see stars; April was thrown off the other side of the hospital bed by Lexi's shove and landed on her back. Quickly recovering from the shock, she started to pull herself up by the frame of the bed and ran to stop the fleeing injured agent.

Lexi didn't get very far. The IV lines in her arm were still attached and they yanked her back as the tape painfully ripped off her skin and the plastic catheters pulled out. Blood oozed out of those puncture sites, leaving a trail that dropped onto the floor.

The strength from the jerk brought the heavy IV pole up, off the bed, and then fell crashing to the floor. The noise of the metal hitting the linoleum and smashing the glass of the IV bottles was horrendous.

Shards of glass littered the floor when April quickly rounded the bed. Ignoring the crunching under her shoes, she grabbed an ample amount of Lexi's white hospital gown and pulled her off her feet.

Noises came from the hallway by those on the other side were trying to open the locked door started to pound loudly and calling out to the two agents.

Lexi grunted out a scream and fell back onto the floor with a dull thud, hitting her head, which darkened her vision. Her unsupported, casted arm fell after the rest of her body to hit her on the top part of her head. Glass ground into her back after April jumped on top of her, crossed her arms in front, and pinned her down.

"Crazy, bitch!" April screamed in frustration right into Lexi's ear. "I was trying to make this easier for you, but you had to try and leave. Alert anyone who would give a damn in UNCLE, well, no one does."

"Gggoawrrge" Lexi said in a pant and tried to pull out her good arm from under her casted one.

"George's a fool," April said and she shoved Lexi back hard to the floor, causing an involuntary release of air. "You were looking for someone to exploit. He's just dumb enough to think that a cold KGB agent would ever be his friend. What were you going to do, commie pig, steal his baby and take her to the Motherland?"

Lexi's eyes widened by the venom April was spitting out while trying to take a shallow breath in. "Noaw…"

April shifted her body, so she could strike the Russian agent, but Lexi was ready and shifted her legs around April's. She was able to pull her hand out from under the cast; roughly grabbed April's hair, and pulled it hard to the side. Her body followed and now Lexi was on top. She used her heavily plastered splint to hold her down by pressing it across her neck and shoulders.

"Oh, very good," April said with a smile. She was impressed with the struggle Lexi was putting up. "But you'll never win. I'm not hurt and hate to say it, but slightly outweigh you."

Lexi grabbled out a few curses of her own, which were incomprehensible with her jaw wired shut. With an impertinent laugh, April changed her grip on Lexi's cast and rolled her back to where she was on top again.

Spotting the fallen syringe on the floor a few feet away under the side table, April rolled Lexi towards it. With Lexi on top, she blindly reached out for the syringe as she looked to the two-way mirror and she saw the slightest movement in the room's reflection. April wondered how much they had heard and seen. She felt then and palmed the syringe.

Instantly, she jabbed it into Lexi's thigh and pushed the drug home before she could jerk her leg away. "Lexi, you're all right, just let me go."

April used Lexi's silent shock and surprise to work it to her advantage and slid the used syringe further back under the side table for no one to see, except for Lexi and she would soon be unable to tell. She grabbed Lexi's elbows and slowly sat straight up; leaning the drugged woman back onto the floor until she went limp.

The door finally gave way and the medical staff, along with Dr. George Thompson, came rushing into the room to find April softly, almost lovingly caress Lexi's hair away from her pale and peaceful face.

"April," George urgently said and knelt down by her and Lexi. "Are you all right? What happened?"

She nodded weakly and watched George feel for a pulse on Lexi's neck and check her eyes for pupil reaction.

"I don't know what happened," April sighed dramatically. George and the orderlies gently lifted Lexi's body off her legs. They laid her on the bed and started to examine her unresponsive body. "I was talking to her one minute and the next she was pulling out her IV's and was determined to leave Medical. She was acting so strange and all I could do was to try to stop her by locking the door. She attacked me and then passed out."

"Hummm," George nodded and he extended a hand to help April up. "She has a concussion; maybe she became confused, but I can't understand why she's not awake."

"Well, she did hit her head on the floor while we struggled," April suggested and started to carefully pick the broken glass out of her hair.

Dr. Allen rushed the room and went straight to April and gruffly said, "Get to the treatment area. We'd just released you and now you're covered with cuts. Go."

April smiled sweetly at Allen, flicked a quick glance to the hospital bed, and headed off to the treatment center.

"Now," Allen said in a stern professional voice. "Who knows what happened? Who was on the monitor?"

"I was," a young orderly cautiously raised his hand. "But, Miss Dancer said that she could watch her while I went to supper. I was only gone long enough to go to the cafeteria and then came right back."

"Robert," George said to get Allen's attention, before he could read the anxious man the riot act. "April said she hit her head. I think that we should get an X-ray and check her wounds, old and new. Lexi's breathing and her heart rate is slowing to resting."

"We can watch the tape later." Allen agreed with George to focus on the patient.

"Sir," the young orderly interrupted after he nervously swallowed, twice.

"Yes," Allen said, not turning toward the man.

"The tape recorder was turned off."

Allen and Thompson both stopped, turned to the orderly, and said, "What!"

George put him hand on a nurse's shoulder to get her attention. "Have Dr. Sheppard put Miss Dancer in a secured room until we have some idea in what's going on here."

The nurse nodded and quietly left the room.

"Lexi, honey, can you hear me?"

"Somebody clean up all this glass and water on the floor."

MFU/MFU

Illya and the imposter had successfully walked out of UNCLE headquarters and caught a cab. They switched several cabs until the Solo look-a-like determined that they were not being followed. He had the cab drop them off in a deserted construction site in one of the Burros.

"We have one more ride, but we're early." The imposter looked around while Illya looked at his watch. "Oh, sorry, no watches either, my friend. I suppose this is as good as any time to search you and remove the more obvious toys."

Kuryakin remained silent and didn't help his adversary in their detailed search. A non-descript sedan rolled to stop where the two men stood. The driver and thug passenger jumped out and brought a hard black briefcase to the imposter.

"Thank you," he bowed to the men, set the case on the trunk of the car, and opened it. He then turned to Kuryakin. "Now, if you please, stand here."

The two thugs each grabbed one of Kuryakin's arms and pulled him forward. He didn't resist. Several devices were passed before him in an effort to assess if he had a homing device on him. "Yep, you're clean."

With a nod to the men holding the blond agent, one of them let go of his arm, produced a blindfold and placed it over his eyes. To prove that he couldn't see, one the men proceeded to punch him in the stomach. Surprised by the action, the pain and shock brought Illya to his knees, gasping for a breath.

"Was that necessary?" Kuryakin asked through clenched teeth. He was pulled back up to stand.

"No," the imposter laughed. "But I'm not as civil as you when it comes to showing who is in charge."

"Fine, you're in charge. Let Mr. Solo and me go and you can be the boss," Kuryakin grumbled and took a deep breath in.

"Now there's the great Kuryakin charm I heard so much about," The man said and poked the agent with the capped end of the syringe now in his hand from his pocket.

"But, I can't just let the heir apparent go." Illya felt the syringe being traced up and down his arm. "I would lose all that the boss and I have been working a year for. You see, I was to be made into your butt-fucking partner at UNCLE and Gurgel into the next leader of THRUSH so we could run them for Mr. X. He wants you as his right hand man."

"Why me," Kuryakin asked softly, letting the man talk to his heart's content.

"Because, you have something I don't, it appears." Illya could hear the man stiffen by the way he shuffled his feet on the gravel and the increased pressure he was drawing on him with the syringe. "You have control and a word that I can't even swallow. It's called ethics."

"What will happen to those you plan to replace?"

"Oh," he said with a snort. "Eventually killed once we've learned all we can, but you'll have me."

"Hardly the same," Illya said dourly.

"Oh, I quite agree. Breaking in a new partner can be hell and I do want to thank you for not giving me this drug, but I'm curious how it works. Hold out his arm, boys."

Kuryakin struggled blindly against the two men, but they held him tight when his arm was grabbed by the wrist. The sound of a switchblade being opened up caught his attention and he stopped moving. The cold smooth blade ran up his wrist and forearm. Pressure was placed on his arm. He felt the knife slice through his shirt and jacket in one quick motion.

Leaving his arm bare, a strong hand grabbed him at the elbow and squeezed it tight to show off his visible spider web of veins even more. One was selected with the expected shock and pinch of pain showed in his eyebrows while the fluid hotly ran through his blood. The burly men let Ilya go and he crumpled to the ground with a small groan.

"Now, on to see Mr. X. Get him into the car."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Lexi, time to wake up and take that tube out…"

Tube…her mind echoed when she started to swim to the surface of consciousness. Along with awareness came pain and stiffness. The muscles in her throat were in spasm when the feel of the endotracheal tube became obvious and hard to breathe through. She could feel it tug and stretch her right nostril that it was taped to.

Hands held hers down while she tried to find the strength to open both eyes. A blinding light flashed in eye and then the other. The shock of the bright light brought her mind and body fully awake while she struggled with sensory overload. All Lexi wanted to do was to pull the tube down her windpipe out, but couldn't open her mouth to scream and her body began to thrash about.

"Whoa there, little lady, I know it's tough puffing on a straw, but we have to see if you can keep breathing on your own first." A face came into focus above her and Lexi tried push away from it. She had no voice to yell for help. "Hey, it's me, George; you're safe."

It took a few moments for Lexi to take in all of what he was saying and override the overwhelming sensations her body was taking in, but George's chatty voice filtered through the madness and eventually calmed her.

"April's in one of the detention cells. As soon as she was sent to see Dr. Paul after your cat fight, she went hysterical, and old Benny Samuel's, here, thinks that she was under some kind of deep hypnosis that wasn't reached by our usual antidotes.

"With time, she'll be back to the normal-minded Section Two agent we all know and love. We didn't beat Benny at the punch, but we'll get him the next time. Drugs always win."

"George, it is Ben, not Benny."

A voice rang out on Lexi's other side that made her slightly turn her head to see the quiet, thoughtful man looking at her. She knew that they would have to have at least of one of those torturous "discussions" about her latest assignment, torture, and rape.

He didn't know who she really was. A Russian assassin trained to survive anything, not the simple Midwesterner who was Illya's unexpected girlfriend. Like him, she tried to avoid psychiatrists who wanted to talk about her feelings as if they worked for THRUSH.

George winked at her and then shrugged an apology to the upset, mousey man. What Samuel wanted most from his colleagues was their respect for his job and profession. He knew it was hard to get that from anyone from Section Two, but he expected it from at least among the doctors; George, Illya, and Lexi included.

"You gave us a fright," George broke through her train of thought. "We almost lost you until a syringe was found under the table when they were cleaning all that glass off the floor. The nurses were able to tell us what it was after they did an inventory. What a party you two were having and you didn't bother to invite me."

Lexi looked at George, let go of his hand, and gave him a hand signal.

"Well," he smiled after reading what she signed. "I haven't tried to learn sign language since grade school but I know that one wasn't very nice. No birdies allowed in headquarters. What would Illya say? No, scratch that, he'd probably give me two of them. Now, be nice so Robert can pull that nasty tube out."

"George, are you done yet," Allen asked in an impatient huff. He was standing where Lexi didn't see him at first. "Some of us have real doctor work to do. Okay, Lexi, two deep breaths in and then I'll quickly pull the tube out. I won't lie to you; it'll hurt like hell and I have suction ready if your nose starts bleeding."

Lexi did as she was told, took the breaths in and then concentrated on holding George's hand with her good one so she wouldn't punch the Surgeon. With the tube out of her vocal cords, she was able to groan in discomfort and finally swallow. In the next breath she garbled out curses in many different languages as she could with her jaws wired shut.

"Good job, my dear. Now, like I tell that other stubborn Russian we both know and love, your throat will be dry and sore. I can't let you drink for another thirty minutes, but then I want you to try and push high calorie fluids. You won't make weight if you don't.

"I believe that Illya is fond of double chocolate shakes; we will have to find out what flavors you like. And don't give me that look about milk products. It's either that or it's a feeding tube down that raw, irritated nose of yours."

Lexi silently mouthed a few more curse words directed specifically at Allen while giving him another not-so-savory hand gesture. She then smiled softly, gave him a wink, and nodded in understanding of what he wanted her to do.

"What's going on here?" Samuel asked. "Are you saying that Monica is Russian? But, her profile says that she's American, from Iowa for pity sakes."

George and Robert had forgotten that Ben didn't know her secret and looked to Lexi for permission. She rolled her eyes and nodded after she stretched out her neck from being in one position for a long time. With the wave of an impatient hand at George to tell Samuel the truth, she started to look for the hand control to raise the head of the bed to get more comfortable.

"Well, Benny…" George started.

"Ben." Samuel said seriously. George and Lexi snorted in amusement like two grade-schoolers.

"Lexi was Illya's first partner in the Soviet Union when they were young. Speaking of the man," George interrupted himself to fill her in. "He's developed a new homing device. He had it stuffed in his labcoat along with a microphone so Mr. Waverly could hear what that imposter was saying. Anyway, the device works in a drug that is injected into the blood stream. We'd made it while you were gone at Survival School. It interacts with the hemoglobin in a person's blood. We didn't get much of a chance to test it beforehand, but we did pick up a weak signal a little while ago. It has a mile or so range, we figured. Mark is leading a team to find him and Napoleon."

With the mention of Napoleon's name, Lexi involuntarily shivered. George took her hand and squeezed it lightly. Samuel took that moment to move closer to the bed and sit on its edge. He made sure that she knew he was there, but didn't try to touch her.

Eying Ben suspiciously, Lexi gave him a quirky smile and motioned George to continue on with his story about her life to the friendly enemy.

"As I start this story, Ben, you have to promise to keep it on the 'need-to-know' basis." George started again after the man nodded patiently and quietly listened. "Now this is what old lock jaw here has told me so far. Alexana Sonja Dolchi was born…"

MFU/MFU

When the blindfold came off, Illya blinked to adjust his eyes. He was not surprised to find himself in a darkened, enclosed, parking garage. He and his captors had been driving for over thirty minutes according to his internal clock. Nothing was discussed or spoken to him. He listened to the movement of the car and traffic going by.

"Come on, oh chosen one," the imposter grumbled, led Illya by the elbow to the elevators, and pushed the "up" button.

Illya grimaced at his sarcastic comment, but remained quiet and his jaw tensed. He boldly walked into the elevator, stopped at the back wall, turned around, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited for the rest to enter.

"I want to see Napoleon Solo first." Illya's voice said calmly from the back of the elevator.

He stood firmly, unflinching while the two thugs flexed their hands nervously toward their weapons. The Napoleon look-alike just smiled, put his hands in his pockets, and looked down at his shoes.

"Agreed," a deep voice echoed into the tiny elevator, making everyone jump with surprise.

A humph of laughter rang out from the imposter. He reached out and pushed a different button on the panel. "What Mr. Kuryakin wants, he gets."

"Well, I am the heir apparent." Illya said smugly and he kept a steady gaze on the ring leader.

"We shall see," the man countered back with a challenging tone.

The elevator doors opened to a short, stark, gray hallway with a single door at one end. Cameras in the ceiling followed the group's track to the door. Just inside the entrance, there was a plain, metal desk with three monitors on it and an armed guard sitting at attention.

Across from him were three doors that were solid with only an opaque window and a food slot. With a nod to the guard, he stood up, walked to the middle door, and waited for Kuryakin to meet him there before he unlocked it.

As the door swung open, Illya could see his partner sitting on a single, solid metal cot suspended from the wall by a couple of industrial strength chains.

Illya slowly walked past the guard and into the sparse cell. Beside his partner and the flat bed with two blankets, there wasn't anything else. The door closed behind the UNCLE agent with a lock.

Napoleon had his back against one wall in the corner and stared at the other plain, white wall. He only gave Illya the briefest of looks before he returned to staring at the cracks between the heavily painted brick. Neither of them spoke a word for a full three minutes.

"I think that I've gone insane." Napoleon said in a hush voice.

"That's a little melodramatic don't you think?" Illya smirked and shifted his posture. "I do have other people to see right now."

"Oh, I think I have the right to be." Napoleon rolled his head to finally face his blond partner. "I don't know what day it is. I've had nothing to do, no one to talk to except for a single guard through a frosted glass window, who only will tells me when it's time to eat, drink, and lights are going out. I haven't been asked to betray UNCLE, beaten, or even drugged that I know of."

"That must be the ultimate torture for you, you selfish American," Illya's dead-pan delivery brought Napoleon's eyes up in mock shock. "It just goes to show that you and your over inflated ego can't stand being alone. Is there no one around here to listen to your insensate, self-centered chatter and made-up accomplishments?"

"Now, I know that you're my real partner." Napoleon said with the smallest hint of relief. "But, I think what's even more depressing is to see someone else trying to wear my clothes. One minute, I'm waiting for April and then Napoleon Solo is walking into the hotel room and shoots me with a tranquilizing dart. His clothes weren't even designer.

"The next thing I'm aware of is being in this cell. It's a truly maddening thought to a sharp mind like mine. Your unimaginative mind could handle it quite well and much better than…"

"Careful Napoleon," Illya snorted in a hollow threat. "I may prefer the fake Napoleon to you. Although, I think that he would be more than happy to see me dead. Who would take care of all your paperwork and check on my experiments?"

"Ah, a man with taste," the taller agent's eye sparkled as their banter covered up what was said non-verbally between the partners of several years.

"I don't think even Mark could take your constant womanizing." Illya winked his eye.

Before more could be said, a knock was heard and the door opened to a guard waiting with his hand on his revolver. Neither agent moved from their spot while the guard looked from one man to the other before he motioned Kuryakin to come back out into the hallway.

"I guess that's my cue to leave," Illya shrugged and eyed the dark-haired agent who nodded his understanding.

"Be sure to leave the door open; it gets stuffy in here…"

Before Solo could finish his comment, the heavy door swung shut and the definite sound of a door lock turning back into place.

"Hey! At least bring me a glass of Scotch! I'll even take water!"

MFU/MFU

After another quiet ride in the elevator with the imposter and two nervous thugs, Illya didn't see enough change in appearance to where they were going or what floor they were on. He was used to gray metal walls and the pang of their footfalls from the heels of shoes on steel, but missed the people walking the halls of headquarters. The silence was monstrous and it echoed throughout the windowless tunnel.

The plain metal door opened to a wooden-paneled reception room with low, slung back, black leather benches. A slim older lady sitting at the desk only looked up with irritated eyes over wire rimmed glasses and sighed, closed her memo book, turned, and pushed a button.

"Mr. Santo, Mr. Kuryakin, he is ready for you," the lady said with her attention was still on the panel at her desk. She flipped a few more switches with frustration and her mouth formed a straight line with a grimace. "You may go in. You other two, wait here with me. I have an assignment for you."

The last button she pushed was to open the automatic door off to the right. The two men walked into the office when the phone rang and the receptionist picked it up, pulled off her glasses, and let them drop to hang by their chain. "Yes, dear, I'm aware of it. Code X95 will be activated."

MFU/MFU

Kuryakin and Santo walked into the spacious office. One side of it was filled with a massive conference table and chairs, whereas the other half contained a single-sized desk. Only two standard windows opened up to the outside world. The rest of the gray walls were closed shielding, hiding what was behind them.

No one appeared to be in the room and Santo started to walk toward the conference table. Illya took a moment to look around the sparse office before he joined the imposter, only on the other side of the conference table.

He watched the correctly named Santo instead of Napoleon look-a-like fidget with his tie, glancing around nervously. Smiling inwardly, Illya knew how he felt, but chose to remain calm and concentrate on his fingers laying loosely in his lap.

A big man with snow-white hair about the age of Mr. Waverly, holding a file, walked in from a hidden panel behind the desk, and up to the two seated men. His head bent while he read the information off the file from atop the table, pulled a remote out of his pocket, pressed the button, and then set it on the table. For a long minute, he appeared to ignore his visitors.

Illya took this time to assess this older gentleman; tall: firmly muscled, studious, and calculating. His gut instinct told him that he was not to be trusted and he'd met this man before. Kuryakin didn't know why, but when he thought about it, he had met his receptionist as well.

Like a painful memory lost in a fog that was still tangible, but not quite clear to him yet. This man was definitely from Illya's youth, in Kiev, if he had to pick a time and place. Kuryakin's hand twitched as if it was trying to pull out scenes of his life that had been buried for so long. The ones he and Lexi had tried so hard to forget ever existed.

With his mind reeling, the younger blond man turned his eyes to his attire: a basic black suit, a blood-red tie with the Soviet Union's symbol dead center, and a starched stiffed white, lab coat. It was almost as if they had mirrored each other in many ways. Illya wondered if some of his quirks in personality had come from watching this powerful man when he was a boy.

While he chewed on his thoughts, Kuryakin waited for the man to look at him, which he didn't.

"Mr. Santo," the deep, full voice addressed the visibly trembling agent.

The soft swoosh of an opening door interrupted the older man when the receptionist and the same two thugs came in from the reception area. She stepped toward the man Illya now assumed was Mr. X and handed him a note. The closeness in which she stood told the UNCLE agent that they were more than casual co-workers.

While she waited for his response, she flicked a small glance and smile to Illya that had him wondering again where he had seen her. He could see that she was excited and wanted to talk with him, but couldn't.

"Yes, I see," Mr. X grunted when he spoke quietly to her. "You were right, my dear. We must complete this meeting first, take care of loose ends, and then it will be time for us."

"Any clue yet," she asked, gently squeezed his arm and then back away when she felt his arm muscles tense.

"Mr. Santo," Mr. X began again, cleared his throat, and raised his voice. "Do you realize that you let Mr. Kuryakin here carry a homing device on him?"

"Not possible, sir," Santo shook his head angrily. "I used all our devices on him before the last car ride. I didn't do anything except to…"

"Yes," Mr. X raised his eyebrows and patiently looked at the man who rolled his eyes, flashing pure hate across the table at Kuryakin.

"I injected the bastard with the drug he was going to give me in UNCLE headquarters had I not convinced him to let me go. No wonder you didn't seem to be affected by it. What does it do?"

"Mr. Kuryakin, care to fill us in?"

"UNCLE developed a chemical compound that would attach to the hemoglobin in the blood to make it readable in a low amplitude frequency with a range of one and a half to two point three miles."

"Ingenious." Mr. X smiled, but he didn't even look at Kuryakin, but kept a steady gaze on Santo who cringed as he listened. "What would have happened if he hadn't injected you?"

"Not a variable." Illya simply said softly and the receptionist suddenly laughed out. "Mr. Santo has shown great aggression toward all UNCLE agents, especially females and myself, so I knew that the temptation for him was too great. Being allowed to see Mr. Solo was a bonus that I hadn't counted on, because now I know that when the attack force comes, he is in the same building."

"Yes, I know that UNCLE and Alexander are coming, but we have some time before that happens. I heard what you didn't say to your partner. Very good, Mr. Kuryakin, I'm almost tempted to keep both of you to work for me. But, be assured, as we close up shop here, your Mr. Solo is still in a very tenuous position for a little while longer. The cell he's in has the function to release a deadly nerve gas that kills within seconds. You'll have to indulge me a while longer."

This time, he looked right at Kuryakin. His deep brown eyes were sharp and showed enormous strength behind them. It was calculating, fierce, and impersonal glare that didn't release Illya's until he chose to let go.

"I understand." Illya said quietly like he was a child listening to a teacher.

"Now, back to Mr. Santo," Mr. X turned back to the man who stood up from his chair to be at eye level with his boss. "You were given several chances to redeem yourself. I'd picked you to lead UNCLE into the next decade as Waverly's heir, but your conditioning has been flawed. You haven't developed into what is needed to complete the mission.

"You haven't showed restraint with your enemies nor do you understand the basic knowledge of how to interact with others to achieve a comprehensive conclusion to what the ultimate goal is. Force, violence, and cruelty are the only thing you know."

A gun from Santo's holster was pulled out with lighting speed. He pointed it right at Kuryakin, who quickly stood up. "It sounds like you've just signed my death warrant with that little stunt you pulled. All of this is lost anyway. I might as well take the Crown Prince with me. You've been nothing but a constant reminder of the perfect creations you two were. I'm glad that I killed the other one…"

Santo waved his gun between Mr. X and Illya, but he had forgotten the grey haired receptionist, who took aim with a dart gun and shot the man in the back. He lurched forward with a jerk; the gun went off wide of his target before he fell on top of the table, dead.

Silently, the two thugs picked Santo's body up and carried it out of the room with the receptionist following. Mr. X shook his head, sighed, and took a pen out of his lab coat. He opened the file on the table, crossed off a few items, and put the pen down in despair. Rubbing his face, Mr. X sat down heavily in the chair next to where Illya stood.

The receptionist came back in and to stand between Mr. X and Illya. She put her hand lightly on Mr. X's shoulder as she extended her warm, petite hand to Illya.

Hesitantly, he took her offered hand and politely kissed it. He was surprised to feel the strength that ran through it. Like a chameleon, she changed from a hardened killer to a sweet, motherly woman. Her violet eyes sparkled when she looked him up and down. Lexi had that same characteristic that was very disarming.

"Illya darling, you look just like your mother, Julia," the chameleon charmingly said in Russian to the agent and she put her hand on his shoulder to guide him down into the chair. "Tell me that you haven't forgotten me and Silas."

"Marta," Mr. X's booming voice said, he cautioned her in their native tongue. "He hasn't seen you since he was eleven years old and then it was under hypnosis."

"I remember," Illya said softly in English after a small, unconscious shiver ran throughout his body. "You helped Yeni Dolchi and General Boris Kuryakin turn Alexana and me into trained killers after the war."

"Oh, it started way before then," Silas grunted, closed the file he was writing in, and tossed it in front of him. "Do you know how you and Alexana got to be friends?"

"Our fathers were spying on the Nazis and became friends when they were working together."

"Yes, yes, but before your fathers' stupidly decided to fight for the good of the Soviet Union." Silas grumbled with an impatient wave of his hand. "Before for that."

"Before," Illya asked, "I was living with my father and Grandmother with the Gypsies on the plains after my mother died trying to deliver my premature brother."

"Yes, that was a sad time for us all," Marta nodded sadly. "I mourned your mother's death for a long time."

"Fine, we all mourned, because she and Yeni were the only ones in our study who were able to grow a fetus and give birth during the first round of our experiment. You and Alexana were the only two to survive with the genetic coding completely intact.

"Your mother's other baby didn't make it and she sacrificed her life to try again so soon after you were born. It was very selfish of your father, Nicholi, to want a son with only his genetic coding. And what ever Nicholi did, so did Alexana's pathetic father."

"Silas," Marta said sternly. "Remember, Edmund was my brother. I know that you didn't condone his and Nicholi's moral and national values. They weren't worldly thinkers like you. That's why I chose to stay with you even after we lost all those babies."

Illya listened to their exchange with horror and fascination. They were telling him more than he ever knew about his own life, but the scientist in him yearned to find out even more.

"You're Lexi's Aunt and Uncle," Illya said in astonishment. Should Marta know that she is still alive?

"Oh darling, I'm much more. I was part of her genetic code." Marta said in a mater-of-fact voice, "Not yours, a good thing too, because I found out that you two had become lovers. It's sad that she was killed in Kiev just over two years ago."

Illya looked up sharply at Silas who shrugged his shoulders, but didn't correct his wife while he absently nodded to her.

"My dear, I need to talk with Mr. Kuryakin alone. Why don't you go and check on the process of our pull out. UNCLE agents will be on this level in an hour. We need to prepare."

"Yes dear," Marta straightened up and changed back into the controlling receptionist again. "Will Mr. Kuryakin be joining us?"

"Yes, Margo, he will, but I haven't determined if it will be by force or not."

"Yes, Mr. X, Mr. Kuryakin, it's a pleasure to have you with us again. It's been a long time and it'll be nice to get to know you as an adult. No one else has survived the study as long as you did and all replacements have been inferior. It's a shame that Alexana changed the formula and now she's gone. We'll never be able to recreate it again. See you in twenty-five minutes and no later."

"Yes, thank you. Margo," Silas said in frustration.

Marta nodded, picked up the file, and lovingly patted Illya's hair like one would a beloved son. She left the office with a sense of determination in her walk.

Once she left, Silas looked at Kuryakin with a hard scrutiny in his thinking. "A trait of multiple personalities is something that we couldn't filter out. It's a strong defense mechanism that helps with emotional and physical abuse."

"Yes, I know," Illya smiled inwardly at all the names and personalities Lexi made up and used. He especially enjoyed Gretchen.

"It's all about genetics, really," Silas simply said, trying to explain his life-long scientific experiment to him. "We know that genes affect only part of the person. What we were trying to do was to create an optimal human vessel to accept advanced training to be an ultimate soldier. Bred and developed to endure hardship, pain, and have dogged resilience to survive the worst injury."

"A charming personality wasn't enough?" Illya's deadpan delivery got a rise from the older man's eyebrow.

"That was your uncle's part of the programming," Silas ignored the tart comment. "You were sent to all the right schools in other countries to improve your international knowledge while remaining loyal to the Soviet Union."

"Did we pass?" Illya asked.

"Yes and no, it was planned to have you at the international level to work within UNCLE and for us when needed. Alexana, we had more time to adjust her training while your self-righteous father took you away after Julia's death.

"In the end, he had to come back to Yeni and he asked her to take care of you while he went off to war. Did your father ever tell you about your mother?"

"He didn't say much." Illya admitted quietly. "My grandmother would tell me that Nicholi loved her so much that he couldn't talk about it for a very long time without a bottle of vodka in his hand. To be there for the collective good of Mother Russia and me, he didn't drink or talk much."

"Ah, the true hero that died for his country." Silas said in a way that made Illya feel that he thought it was a waste of effort and lives. "If we could have engineered hybrid assassins earlier, we would've killed a few key generals and saved thousands of lives. Julia believed that as well and was a scientist in behavioral child development for those surviving traumatic experiences."

"What makes you feel that Alexana and I failed?"

"I wouldn't say a complete failure, but a shift in perspective in that you have taken you training to another level. You're a success in the way you and Alexana survived as you did," Silas brought his hands flat on the table. "Only you two couldn't be manipulated to what we wanted anymore. You two decided to form an unbreakable bond and resist our orders.

"We had a big decision to make. We had Boris separate the two of you and were able to use Alexana for a while longer, but her pull to you was so great that it couldn't be ignored even under the strictest orders from General Kuryakin. Some believe that she may have poisoned him to get away."

"That I can't believe or won't believe," Illya spat out in anger and he shifted in his chair angrily. "Lexi would've told me. We've worked together to safeguard others from that damn formula; your blasted conditioning is useless without it.

"She sacrificed herself to save others. Just like her mother and our fathers. Their genes are the ones I'm most proud of. I don't kill because I'm told. I kill when I have to, when I need to save many by killing one. Mr. Waverly doesn't ask me to choose."

"Oh no?" Silas raised his voice a bit more. "He chooses that for you and you follow his orders. I supposed that you've never killed for revenge either? When someone raped Alexana or beat your partner, Napoleon Solo? It's still in you, waiting for the order. You weren't designed to think about it; just to kill."

"If Alexana and me weren't what you so desired, why didn't you make more assassins if we were so unmanageable?" he asked out of the blue.

"Ah, that's the rub, isn't it? We can't get any other of our formulas to work the same way it did on you. We tried to recreate it along with the conditioning, but none of it worked, because all the other test subjects had gone insane, eventually. Mr. Santo and Mr. Gurgel were the latest; we had switched to adults this time. They volunteered to take the revised formula and the conditioning, but the longer they went through the program, the more they became angry, violent, and homicidal, if not suicidal. Just like all the others we processed after you and Alexana. That note Marta gave me confirmed Gurgel's death during his climb up THRUSH's ladder.

"Same with Santo," the bigger scientist shook in frustration. "He'd become increasingly aggressive and violent toward all women. The public rape and death of that call girl would've been his last act except I needed him to get to you and he knew it.

"We knew that we had to get Alexander's attention to finish up Mr. Santo's transformation into Solo by providing our scientists with the real person for a day or two, but we weren't expecting to meet up with two other UNCLE agents investigating at the same time. We'd hoped that you would come after your partner, but you were in another country working on computer codes."

"Why didn't you tell Marta that it was Lexi that Santos raped and killed?"

"Because she would've killed him before I could get to you." Silas grunted out. "I didn't know that Alexana had planned her own death in Kiev until Miss Dancer was interrogated into telling us. She told me what Alexana had been doing for UNCLE and you after Santos had caught her in this office and killed her.

"Marta loved Alexana more than she should have for an experiment subject. She was her only flesh and blood that had survived. She helped care for her and her sister, Margaret, with Yeni when they were babies. Until each girl was four years old. We only heard about the hooker's death, but didn't see who Mr. Santos had killed."

"So, now for the million dollar question," Illya summarized, he knew that time was running short. "What do you want me to do? Only Lexi had any remote idea on how the formula was made and now she's dead. I will not kill for you and I will not come with you."

"We don't want you to kill for us, Illya." The man said with a grin. "We want to experiment on you and take over what was started all those years ago. We're the last of the original group of scientists to work on this project and we want you to continue our work. Bring UNCLE and THRUSH together to prevent the next world war."

"Not one person or group should have that kind of power and I won't do it. I'll do everything in my power to stop all of this. This project ends with me even if I have to die." Kuryakin stood up from the chair, firm with his conviction.

"Are you so sure of your ideals, Illya?" The man stood up as well and met the agent's challenge head on. "I could take you against your will, kill you just like the others, and dissect your brain. All in the interest of science…"

"You won't, because, as you said yourself, you need me," Illya angrily shouted. "I'm the heir to a fortune I don't want. I want to live up to the ideals of UNCLE and maintain what I have now. It's something there that you could never give me."

"And what is that? What can't we give you? You belong to us. You're loyal to whom we say you are and no one else," Silas laughed out at the outrageousness of his statement, drew out a gun, and pointed it him.

"I have a brother in Napoleon and a family in UNCLE," Illya boldly said and stood his ground. "And I've a love to last more than one lifetime, all my nine lives. Like you said, you can try to kill me, but I'll find a way to survive. Just like Lexi. Napoleon will always be there to rescue me as I'm there for him."

"Not if you're dead," he evilly grinned and cocked the gun.

"Death is a state of being and as long as I'm remembered by those who care about and love me, I will exist. I've Lexi waiting for me and a home right now. She survived the attack."

Just then, Marta opened the door and looked in. "No…Silas, you can't do this. We've to go before Alexander's men come."

Silas looked to Marta and than back at Illya, who hadn't moved a muscle. "Is she really alive?"

"Yes," Illya finally admitted. He smiled and glanced at the concerned look Marta was giving Silas. "The bullet was stopped by the KBG tracer. She'll survive and become stronger despite what Santo did to her."

Silas caught Illya's look to his wife and he sighed, but didn't lower the gun. Instead, he pushed a button and flipped a switch.

"Affairs of the heart are weaknesses that have us both in their grip. This isn't over, Illya. One day I will have you and Lexi with us. We're a part of both of you."

With that last comment, Silas shot Illya square in the chest and he fell back from the impact to the floor with a resounding thud.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Mr. Solo," Waverly roughly called out to him. "Wake up, man."

Drowsy from the sleeping gas that was released into the detention cell, Solo tried to sit up, but quickly fell back as he grabbed his head to prevent it from sliding off his shoulders.

"Did you get the license off the truck that hit me?" Solo asked, clamping his eyes shut to calm the rocking motion.

Waverly chuckled at the remark and he helped his CEA in his second attempt to sit up on the floor. Napoleon remained white as a sheet while trying not to throw up his last meal. He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

After a few moments, Napoleon felt the grip of the drug lose its hold on his stomach. Waverly waited patiently for Solo's color to return to his face.

"What did I miss?" He panted out and then swallowed. "I thought Mark was coming with an assault team?"

"Oh, he did," Waverly said with a grimace of frustration. "But, just like you, Mr. Solo, he and the team met up with that rather nasty knockout gas. It lasts just long enough to incapacitate the whole team for this satrapy to shut down and its members to escape."

"Illya," Napoleon asked with concern.

"We found him knocked out as well in the main conference room. Sick to his stomach and if you ask him, it was a train that hit him. He got both the aerosol tranquilizer and a dart. Quite the ingenious defense mechanism, really. It gave Silas and Marta a chance to get away."

"Silas and Marta…" Napoleon asked in confusion while he covered his eyes with his hand to decrease the glare from the lights. "Am I supposed to know who they are?"

"They're some old family friends of mine," Illya said loud enough to make Napoleon cringe with his partner's deep voice pounding through his head like a ping pong ball. "Still lying around, eh, Napoleon?"

"Ha, I knew that you came from the unsavory sort," Napoleon smirked and took his partner's offered hand to help him to stand up. "But, this was just plain mean."

"Gosh, torvarisch, you weigh a ton." Illya grunted to the extra strength it took for him to pull his partner up when it made his own head swoon from the leftover side-effects of the tranquilizers.

"Gentlemen, if you are quite through, I would like to search the rest of this building and get back to headquarters within the hour. Mr. Solo, I want you to join Mr. Slate to finish the job. Mr. Kuryakin, you'll join me and finish the rest of you report on the way back."

"Yes, sir," both man said in union and they nodded to Waverly.

Before Napoleon could leave the detention cell to seek out Mark, Illya grabbed his arm. "Talk to me before you try to see April or Lexi. Your double has been busy, and, not in a good way. Oh, and you'll have to stop back at home. I gave your suit in the locker to your imposter."

"Not the good one in my office locker at work?" Napoleon whined and then quickly turned serious. "I'll call you when I get to headquarters. I hope he got what he deserves."

"He's dead," Illya said darkly. "He got better than he should have."

"Enough said," Solo nodded and walked past Waverly and Illya. "See back in headquarters after I help Mark and grab a shower. I wouldn't want to start smelling like you. How would the ladies tell us apart?"

"Charming to the last," Illya called out with a chuckle vaguely crossing him lips when his beloved brother turned the corner after making it out of the doorway for the first time in a couple of days. Someone that he would've gone to war with if needed.

Waverly watched the exchange between his top two agents. They insulted and competed with each other inessentially. Although, opposite in personalities and looks, they formed a bond that kept them alive and able to save humanity.

"Mr. Kuryakin," Waverly said and the younger agent who turned toward him. "Shall we retire to the car?"

"Yes sir," Illya nodded stiffly; lead the way from the detention cell and out to the elevators that had led him to the discovery of his unusual past.

MFU/MFU

Mr. Waverly had surprised Illya by donning on a New York cabbie hat, opened the back door of the taxi for him, and then settled into the driver's seat. They rode in silence for awhile, each one contemplating the other.

"Silas and Marta," Waverly finally spoke while he spied the blond agent through the rear-view mirror when their eyes met. "Now there are two names I've not heard in quite some time. I don't even remember what his last name was."

"Sir," Illya asked and sat up straighter. "You knew them?"

"Not directly," he shook his head. "It was ten years before the second war. I was on assignment from the UN to help with identifying and contacting Eastern European Governments with key research and experimental sections supported by military funding. It was totally off the record, of course."

"I came across an independent group of scientists supported by a pharmaceutical magnet in the United States, but the experimenting was done in the Ukraine."

As Waverly paused, Illya looked away from the mirror, lost in thought about Lexi's rich grandfather who left her a fortune from his network drug companies, and then turned back again. He remained silent in the back seat.

"Several young and brilliant scientists were given a mission to genetically create and condition skilled killers to quickly and efficiently end global conflicts. Part of what UNCLE strives for everyday." Waverly cleared his throat and continued, occasionally looking in the rear-view mirror at Illya while he drove through rush hour traffic. "General Kuryakin, Silas and Marta, Lexi's parents, and yours were the top Russian scientists in their fields: chemistry, genetics, psychology, and military strategy."

"I reported their progress to my superiors and we kept a careful eye on them. Their project was slow to start and we had lost interest because of their continual failures to produce anything viable. The last thing I heard was the project was declared corrupt and everyone left in the group was sent off to different sections of the Soviet Union government to support the war effort."

"When the war came, I was reassigned." Waverly sighed, wishing he had his pipe to puff on instead of an unlit cigar to chew on. "I'd developed a loose association with General Kuryakin during a conflict with the some Nazi insurgents and we became strong acquaintances or as some would say, friends."

"Yes, the General said that you were to be trusted due your integrity." Illya nodded, mimicking his dead uncle's tone of voice, "that you exhibited true Russian virtues and were not one who grew up in the immoral and over-indulgent West."

"Quite true, Illya," Waverly let a small smile touch his lips when he addressed the younger man by his first name. "He did like to think that only Russians made the best soldiers."

"I didn't even know that I had an uncle until after the war ended and he came to the concentration camp two days after the Nazis had been defeated." Illya turned back to looking out the window and rested his chin in his hand on he bent arm and leaned against the back passenger door of the cab.

"Yes, he kept you and Lexi under cover for a few years while he and Yeni were trying to recreate some of their original project. The geneticist who worked on the project was killed along with you father in the war. They decided to try with children instead of embryos."

"Yes…Edmund," Illya added the name. "Silas didn't think much of him."

"Neither did Boris. They both felt his patriotism and his partnership with your father were too much for them. He chose friendship with Nico over the group and even his wife, much like you. Boris thought that was the biggest flaw he saw in people."

"He did feel that individualism was for the weak," Illya reflected back when he recalled one of many tedious lectures he received from the General and others under his command to train the test subjects in duty first and thoughts of self later.

"That is where I came into the mix." Waverly said and drove around the corner. "He didn't want you and Lexi to form so close of an attachment. He only put you together during the summers and on training missions, but it was too late by then and he approached me about using you for UNCLE."

"I volunteered… was ready to go." Illya had suddenly given up on believing that he had a free will in any of this. "Lexi even encouraged me to go. She knew that I was searching for more than the Soviet Union alone could give me. We promised to make it work somehow. I don't know what price she paid to get to come to New York for the KGB just to see me one in a while To watch out for me from a far."

"Silas is wrong, you know." Waverly looked at Illya through the mirror again with an expression of one that had suffered from the unsavory truth. "All life has good and bad in it. A balance is needed, neither side should win entirely or the world would be in anarchy.

"Those who think that they can overcome evil become what they fear the most. The victor becomes the dictator and is even more violent than the one before. Don't let Silas make you into his savior of his world."

Illya didn't say anything, but continued to look out the window as they came up to the front of Del Floria's tailor shop. Waverly stopped the taxi, put the car into park, and turned back to the quiet man on the bench seat.

"I don't think that Silas will be much of a threat for awhile. Go see Lexi and have George tell you what happened while you were indisposed. Tell her about the imposter's death and what you found out."

"Yes sir," Illya said, slid across the seat, opened the car door, and got out.

"Cheapskate!" Waverly rolled down his window and gruffly shouted out like a real cab driver. "I took you all the way across town and you shorted me a tip. Young people! What is the world coming too?"

Shocked by the flippant remark, Illya turned back to watch the cab speed off and then smiled, He jogged down the steps to the tailor shop and opened the door.

MFU/MFU

"Illya," Dr. Paul Sheppard said, stood up from the chair that was next to Lexi's hospital bed when he came into the room. "I'm glad to see that you're in one piece."

"Are you pulling the late shift again? How's she doing?" He nodded to the sleeping form in the bed while Paul sat back down.

Illya got a chance to get a real good look at Lexi. She was rolled to one side, curled into a loose ball around a large, over-stuffed teddy bear. Her cast was draped over the toy as if she were hugging it. Her face was peaceful, but tired-looking with strands of dyed blond hair falling over her pale, bruised face.

He had never known Lexi to ever want or have a stuff animal. Another oddity for Illya was to see a rather large bouquet of flowers on her bedside table. She would grumble to him that she would get flowers from the men that she had to have sex with to complete a mission. They represented the darker part of service to her and she didn't want them, especially from him.

"Well," Paul said hesitantly, "she's not going to be too happy with Robert."

"She's never happy in Medical," Illya dramatically sighed and fingered the ribbon on the furry bear. "Tell me why she won't be happy?"

"Because he was tired of her not wanting to drink or sleep until she knew that you are safe and he threatened her that if she didn't cooperate soon, he would sedate her and feed her through her nose." Paul shook his head. He was caught up in the middle of their battle of wills. "I think that she was too nervous to fall asleep after the way she was awakened the last two times."

"Okay," Illya said slowly, "fill me in, what happened."

Paul told him what had happened while he was gone. While he silently listened, he watched Lexi sleep. He was glad they had found out about the drug overdose in time to save her.

"Then, she and George had a mega discovery session with Ben Samuel. She let George tell him about her sordid past." Paul smiled when he recalled to Illya the elaborate story George had told with sweeping hand gestures while jumping up and down from his perch beside her bed.

"Oh, boy," Illya sheepishly stammered, using one of Lexi's favorite American expressions. "Does all of Medial know that she and I grew up together?"

"Only Ben and I do. I erased the audio and video feed during that time." Paul smiled at the look of relief on the shorter man's face. "I'd have never guessed that she was Russian. Oh, I've heard her talk in many accents and languages before, but she acts so American."

"You've only seen her here in New York," Illya said simply. "She's a chameleon. When in Germany, she is very much a bar maiden and when she is in the Soviet Union and in the KGB, she is very much like me. I think that the only accent she can't pull off very well is a British one; it's too nasal."

"I'll have to ask her to show me how she does it," Paul smiled brightly. "Anyway, after George told all of her secrets, Ben left with more questions than answers. Then Robert came back in demanding to know if she'd tried to drink the shake he had sent her, and got even more upset that she hadn't touched it. She gave him the dirtiest look. You would've been so proud. It sent him off grumbling about Section Two agents and I swore I heard your name attached to it."

Illya chuckled softly, returned Paul's smile, and then turned toward Lexi to pull a strand of hair away from her face. "That's my girl. Try something with real fruit in it next time."

"I'll take it on advisement," Paul agreed and continued on with his story. "After listening to George chatter for a couple of hours straight, Ben now knowing who she really was, fighting with Robert to drink a chocolate milk product, and waiting to hear any news about you; she finally gave up the ghost and fell into a restless sleep."

"Who gave her the flowers and the bear," Illya finally asked after Lexi let out a stuttered breath, but didn't wake up.

"Oh, your girlfriend has an admirer in the FBI." Paul smirked, crossing his strong, black arms over his chest, and leaned back further into the chair. "The bear and flowers come from the rather dashing FBI agent who found her this morning and has become quite enamored. He showed up on our doorstep, asking about her when he found out that she was released from the downtown hospital. Lexi swears she didn't remember a thing, only that she was trying to get away when she passed out."

"He was taken to Waverly's office and had a message from his boss, Gibbons, for the boss man." Paul said finally. "I don't know what was said, but I heard by the water cooler that the old man wasn't too happy and then went after you."

"The FBI's attention isn't what Mr. Waverly really wants at this time."

"Such is the life of Number One of Section One." Paul sighed.

Suddenly, a low, grabbled growl came from Lexi, which surprised both men and they turned to her. They thought that she hadn't heard them talk. Illya leaned forward to carefully listen to what she was mouthing around her wired teeth.

Paul looked from Lexi to Illya to get the drift of was she was saying. Illya nodded, said a few words back, kissed her on the forehead, and then stepped back.

"Hey!" Paul looked to Illya. "What kind of language was that?"

"Our own," Illya said simply. "She asked if we were done talking about her so she could sleep. Then I told her that the imposter was dead, that we had found the real Napoleon unharmed, and not knowing what had happened to her or April."

Another lengthy and rather tart growl was heard, Lexi settled back down to actually sleep now that he was back. Illya only laughed and shook his head while Paul waited for an explanation.

"First, she's mad at me for letting Santo to be killed before she could do the job herself. And then, she told me to go get a drink with Napoleon to bring him up to speed. Finally, she's leaving me for the FBI agent who brought those smelly flowers and itchy teddy bear that you put under her broken arm after she dozed off. And if she could lift the heavy cast, she would throw it at you."

Paul nervously looked from Illya back to Lexi who acting like she was still sound asleep and then cracked a grin. "I'd better watch myself or I'll end up on your shit list just like good old Benny."

"Pawwl," Lexi squeaked out dryly after her tirade with Illya and swallowed. "Gaww hooome."

"Not until you try to drink something; Dr. Robert Allen's orders and mine too. How about a glass of juice? You won't be able to leave tomorrow until you do."

Lexi sighed in frustration, but waved him to get her something with her good hand. Illya came forward and gave her another kiss. "I'll take off for a while and see you later tonight."

Lexi nodded and then watched him go with a small frown on her face before she settled back down for the rest of the night and calmly smiled.

MFU/MFU

"Mr. Waverly," Dr. Benjamin Samuel said angrily, the door to Waverly's office opened up and he rushed through, "I want to protest..."

"Protest what, Dr. Samuel?" A calm Waverly barely looked up from his desk at his abrupt visitor.

"That you're allowing Monica Lane to go home today," he stopped at the other end of the circular table with his fists clinched at his sides. "I don't think that she's well enough to go."

"I have no reason to override Dr. Allen's approval for her to go home." Waverly tried to wave the resident psychologist away and went back to reading the morning reports. "Mr. Kuryakin will take care of her for the next few days along with helping with you recondition Miss Dancer. Mr. Solo is to report in when both agents are ready for full duty."

"I don't think that she's ready to leave," Samuel continued on as if he didn't understand that Waverly's word was final. "Another day…"

"I've already let Robert keep her an extra day as it is. She's fine and wants to go home."

"Yes, but she's not mentally fit." He placed his hands on the table. "She's in denial that the rape ever occurred. I need to gather more information from her about who she really is, so I can try to help her."

"You don't have the clearance to make her discuss any part of her training from the KGB or the Soviet government. She and Dr. Thompson told you enough to explain to you what she is so you could treat her. Don't over-dramatize it."

"And what is she?" Samuel asked angrily.

"A highly trained assassin and spy," Waverly said simply to the doctor and let the words he said sink in. "She and Mr. Kuryakin have been trained to kill, manipulate, seduce, and endure all kinds of torture as well as give it. Do you honestly believe that this was the first time she'd been raped in the line of duty? That she hasn't given herself fully of body and soul for the service to duty whom she deems worthy?"

Shocked by what Waverly was saying, Samuel straightened back up. He took the next few moments to think about what he had said. Even though he could override the old man's orders, it would take the time he didn't have, so he took what was offered and changed his tactic.

"When I was in medical school, we had a lecture about genetics and its ability to enhance or ruin a person's life both in their physical and emotional makeup." He watched Waverly stop and look up right at him. "The guest speaker talked of how genetic codes could be enhanced to pick out certain traits. By combining those codes with advanced psychological conditioning, you could create a super human trained to do anything and could be made into the perfect soldier."

"Go on, Dr. Samuel," Waverly said bluntly.

"Well," he swallowed nervously. "In theory it could work, but genetics is an inexact science right now and in its infancy. No one has been able to consistently mix the correct DNA and RNA codes to clone a small cat, let alone human being to my knowledge at this point and time. The ethical ramifications would be astronomical."

"Indeed, they would be," Waverly said gravely. "Never-the-less, Miss Lane will leave today and rest at home for the next two days. After that time, she will report to Dr. Allen…"

"But she needs…" Samuel pleaded once more.

"And report to you, as well. It will be up to the two of you to work this out and have her back on the job by the time her jaw is healed. Until that time, she will work in her lab with Dr. Thompson. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Samuel gave up his fight with a subtle nod to Waverly and walked out the door.

MFU/MFU

Dr. Ben Samuel sadly walked to his office in Medical, thinking yet again how he had lost another battle to Section Two. He couldn't escape the feeling that he had to do something with all this new information about Kuryakin and Lane. Maybe he was foolishly approaching his job for their mental wellbeing from the wrong direction? What would Carl Ericson say?

Just as he was about to enter Medical, he spotted Lexi and Illya walk out the door to her hospital room. He was holding her arm in his and steering her down the hall. Samuel ducked around a corner to observe.

Illya talked softly to her in her ear. At she first grimaced and then finally nodded. She was looking as if he wanted her to do something unsavory. Out of the shadow in the hall, Napoleon appeared and stood, waiting for her to get over the initial shock of seeing him and not the imposter that hurt had her.

Samuel gave Lexi credit for taking a deep breath in to still the trembling that ran through her body and calmly facing her fear. Very slowly, she untangled herself from Illya and walked up to Napoleon, took his hand in hers, looked at it, and then at his eyes.

"Hey, beautiful, cat got your tongue?"

Samuel cringed at the lost opportunity for Napoleon to say the right thing, but something must have clicked, because she merely smiled, shook her head, and walked into his arms to hug him as best she could with one arm.

"I knew that you couldn't hurt me, Napoleon," Lexi rasped out through clinched teeth. "It was your dead, evil twin's doing; just like in all those spy novels."

"I knew that there's a reason why I liked you better than Illya. Tomorrow, you'll need to see April once she's ready." Napoleon held her tight, both he and Illya let out a sigh of relief, and she nodded into his shoulder. "Now, how some about lunch? I know this great ice cream shop a block away from here…ow!"

Samuel let out a snort of laugher almost loud enough for him to get caught by the Section Two agents, because Lexi gave Napoleon a big pinch through his shirt for even the suggestion of trying to get her to drink another disgusting chocolate shake.

"Hey! As your superior and CEA, I've been told that the only way I was to let you out of Medical today and give Mr. Kuryakin here two days off for your leisure activities was to get you to eat. Now do you, Miss Lane, want to get out of here or do I order you to turn around and get back into that bed?"

"No ice cream, but I will go out to a place that I can get some apple juice as long as we can invite Caitlin to join us."

"Damn, I'm losing control of you already, Lexi, and now you want to call in reinforcements," Napoleon groaned in mock despair, looking to Illya for help and he only smiled while he rolled his eyes; "you're a lot of help."

"I do what I can," Illya said smoothly and pulled Lexi away from Napoleon by the arm to get moving. "The quicker we leave Medical, the happier I'll be. If we stay any longer it'll give Samuel a better chance to find a reason to keep us all here."

"Quite right," Napoleon agreed and he followed the two blondes out of the main doorway to Medical. "I wouldn't want to give old Benny the pleasure."

Samuel watched them leave and smiled. What Illya and Napoleon did for Lexi in a few short minutes would have taken weeks for him. To even gain her trust enough to allow him to understand how she and the other Section Two agents tick was just a dream right now.

He decided that he was right and needed to change his approach with all of them and he was going to have to ask Lexi's assistance to accomplish that. With her Master's in psychology, maybe she would be able to explain their aversion to talking about their true, internal feelings. If it took torture to get more out of them, he was ready to do just that.

With a smile on his face and a whistle on his lips, it was now time to see how Miss Dancer was doing. He wanted to look over the notes he took yesterday after his talk with Lexi and then to see if he could find his old notes he took from that controversial lecture when he was in medical school. He tried to remember the name of the doctor giving the lecture. A Mr. X…something or other.


End file.
